


Moments Hidden Away

by V_Chan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drabble, Gen, Heavy Angst, Kinda, Minor Character Death, Sad Ending, You Have Been Warned, Young Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 19:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_Chan/pseuds/V_Chan
Summary: There are days Viktor will always remember. And the day he cried holding a gold medal is one of them.





	Moments Hidden Away

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. I found this old thing lying around and thought, why not post it?
> 
> Two hours of editing later, here I am.

The ice had always been part of Viktor's life. He loved everything about skating: the losses just as well as the victories, the cool air on his face, the sparkling costumes, the smiles and the cheers, the feeling like flying it procured him with.

There was one memory that had always been prevalent to him: the first time he stepped on the ice-- the first time he fell in love with it. He was barely a toddler then, three or four years old, and yet that memory was still crystal-clear. He could still remember how, on a cold winter day, his mom had taken him ice skating to the Tavrichesky Garden rink. He remembered falling on the ice a few times, even crying at first, then starting to get the hang of it. That's how he fell in love with the ice. He could never get enough of it. His parents even signed him up for lessons.

He never left that world after that. He knew of people who did. Friends who stopped because they had fallen out of love for the sport. Friends who left then came back. Friends who came to _hate_ him for always winning the competitions...

Yakov began coaching him when he was eight. He quickly pierced on the international scene, soon becoming St. Petersburg's pride.

At twelve, he won the Junior Russian Championships.

There were days Viktor would remember all his life. His first step on the ice was one of those. The day he saw Yuuri's video was one. The day he won that competition was one, too. He could remember the cheers, the smiles, the podium, _the gold medal._ He could remember his own unconvinced laugh when he first saw his score, the crowd's standing ovation. His stomach settling with that perfect sensation of being full, complete.

He could remember seeing Yakov turn around to take a call, disappearing into another room. The flashes of a million cameras immortalizing the moment as he held his medal higher. He could remember stepping down the podium, triumphant.

And Yakov's face when he finally found him.

He could remember how time seemed to stop when he saw his coach's face. How vulnerable the mountain of a man suddenly seemed to be, and how he himself suddenly felt weak and small. He froze at the edge of the door. He could remember how Yakov lifted his head to look at him and muttered his name. How soft his voice had been, barely a whisper.

He remembered pausing in the doorway. Or did he step forward?

"Vityusha, I-" Yakov stood up, at lost for words.

Something had twisted in Yuuri's gut.

"I'm sorry..." his coach trailed off. "Your parents-"

Tears welled in Yakov's eyes, a sight Viktor defenitelty didn't like. Yakov was strong. He yelled a lot, but never cried. _Ever_.

It wasn't his thing.

And yet here he was, his arms circling Viktor's frailer body and... sobbing into his hair?

"There was a car accident," Yakov breathed out.

Only then did Viktor start to process what he'd said before. His parents...

"The hospital just called. They-- they couldn't--"

Viktor's eyes widened. He pushed Yakov away and ran and ran and _ran_. To where? He didn't know. He didn't _care_. He just ran, past the changing room. He ran through the hall, pushing through the crowd. Someone snapped a picture of him, and he couldn't bring himself to care. _Nothing_ mattered anymore.

He went like that until he found a quiet spot in a deserted corridor. He sat with his back against the wall, his arms wrapped around his knees, his face buried in the soft spot inside his elbow.

A quiet sob pushed it's way past his lips.

He wasn't Viktor the figure skater anymore. Wasn't the gold medallist, the confident boy who smiled wide and laughed loud.

He let the tears flow.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone wondering, I just googled some rinks in St. Petersburg and chose [Tavrichesky Garden](http://api.parkseason.ru/images/styles/1440_auto/50/b7/0a971bdf23c4b0feaf333dff58fe5ad5582b785b72aa0007475740.jpg) because it looked great.


End file.
